


The Man in the Monster

by Madame_Tentacle



Series: End of the Tunnel [1]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Language, Platonic Life Partners, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, gore mention, mild body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-11 00:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10450716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Tentacle/pseuds/Madame_Tentacle
Summary: Waylon Park and Miles Upshur survived the riots of Mount Massive, but they find living with the aftermath a new challenge entirely





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Only going off game canon, ignoring the comics.

When Waylon opened the front door, he looked into the eyes of a monster.

They were shaped as a human's ought to be, but where there should have been white there was darkness that flickered like dead air on the television. When Waylon did find color in the pupils, it was a green that was far too bright and metallic to be natural.

He staggered back and saw they came with a black swarm. It swirled the same as the dark in those eyes. Then there was the silhouette inside the storm.

Everything screamed monster, but the shape inside was unmistakably human.

It was then that Waylon realized he had seen this before. That dark figure was the final image caught on camera and the only one he couldn't identify. When he reviewed the footage, he paused, zoomed in, and enhanced at least a dozen times, but he never figured out who or what it was.

"You...I know you...you were at the asylum..."

The man or monster--Waylon didn't know which--stepped forward. It opened its mouth, but only static and garbled sounds came out, choking on its own words. It froze for a moment, surprised, before trying again. The sounds remained unintelligible, and it was only on the third try that Waylon recognized words.

"Back...jeep...fuck..."

Waylon’s fear turned into bewilderment. He thought he was faced with a monster, but the speech was far too human. What reached out to Waylon was a man the same as him. Only this one was made a prisoner of the storm, no matter how valiantly he fought.

To insure the man's efforts not go wasted, Waylon swallowed his fear and stepped forward.

"Did you say jeep?"

The man nodded. "Give...back..."

"Jeep…?" Waylon's brow furrowed.

He looked past the stranger at the only jeep he ever drove. Before, he thought jeeps obnoxious and only good for a four wheel drive, but when he escaped the hell that Murkoff created, it was the bright red Jeep Wrangler that served as his salvation. Though he had stolen it, Waylon couldn't help but grow attached to the vehicle. When he looked at it, he saw proof that there was a light at the end of the tunnel. Something he struggled to remember through the sleepless nights.

"Do you mean that jeep?"

"...Mine..."

"Yours?" Waylon looked at the jeep and then the man. "You're trying to say that this is yours?"

The man nodded. He opened his mouth to speak again, but this time he couldn't manage anything clear. Only that static and gurgles that mimicked a dying animal. 

The swarm around him intensified. There was an unmistakable chill in the air that made Waylon shiver, but he was not afraid.

If this man were a product of Mount Massive, it would have torn Waylon apart from the inside out and left the remains to rot. It was how Murkoff survived through the years. Not with negotiations or bargains, but by leaving those who opposed them dead or made example of, but this man reached out to him, even when speaking caused him pain.

Waylon only wished he knew who the man was. Perhaps then he could think of a way to help him, to reach into that swarm and bring that humanity back. He mentally scolded himself for not thinking to look up the plates, but found there was no need to when he remembered the name printed on the badge that dangled from the rear view mirror.

"Miles Upshur."

The static faded and those inhuman eyes stared at Waylon in shock.

"Miles Upshur." Waylon said again. "Is that you?"

"Y...yes..."

Waylon finally smiled.

"So you were at Mount Massive. Were you the one at the entrance when I got in the jeep? Were you what got me through the gate?"

Miles nodded.

"And Jeremy Blaire..." Waylon trailed off for a moment. Saying the man's name again reminded him how long it took to wash the man's blood away. "Was that you too?"

Miles stared at Waylon, confused.

"Jeremy Blaire. He was the man in the suit who tried to stop me, but before he could, he was attacked by...the Walrider...was that you too?"

Again, Miles nodded, but this time his head hung low.

Waylon's gaze softened. "Then I finally have someone to thank." He took a step forward. "Thank you, Miles Upshur. You saved my life that day. You let me go home. You let me see my family again. Thank you...thank you so much..."

Miles shrugged in response, even as Waylon's eyes watered.

"You saved me and you..."

Waylon couldn't bring himself to finish that sentence.

No man should have lived through the Mount Massive riots, yet Waylon returned home. He became haunted and fearful, but he was still whole, still human. No matter how vivid the nightmares, he knew they would disappear in the morning. He could turn and see Lisa sleeping soundly at his side, and be reminded him of the promise the future held. With her and the boys, he could press forward, leaving Murkoff’s hell further and further behind them.

The man who stood before him didn't have such luxuries and Waylon blamed no one but himself. He was so consumed with taking down Murkoff that he hadn't thought of dragging others down with him. While Waylon continued to dream of the future, Miles was burdened with a monster on his back, robbed of his very humanity. All because of that blasted email.

There was so much that Waylon wanted to tell Miles, but all he could manage was, "I'm so sorry."

Miles tilted his head, confused. He looked at Waylon as if he were a stranger, which only made him feel worse.

"I'm the one who sent you the email. I'm the whistleblower. I'm the reason you...oh God, I'm so sorry..."

Waylon closed his eyes. If he were to die, he thought it would be on Murkoff’s payroll. Now he realized it would be at the hands of the man who suffered most for his attempts at heroism. He waited to be eviscerated, undone for what he brought upon Miles, but there was only a soft buzzing. More like a quiet fan, rather than the crackling static that put Waylon on edge.

As the static faded, Waylon dared to open his eyes. He sensed no ill will from Miles, which reduced him to tears.

Miles only stood there, staring at him.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I-I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I just. I'm so, so sorry." Waylon's tears turned into loud sobbing, but the gentle buzzing lingered.

As he wept, he felt Miles' hand on his shoulder. It should have come as a comfort, but all Waylon could think of was how cold the grip was, as if his hand were dipped in ice water. There was also a weakness to it. He didn't understand until he glanced at the hand to see the index finger missing. He didn't need to ask what happened.

When Waylon stared, Miles pulled his hand away.

"I"m sorry." Waylon calmed himself enough to speak clearly. "I didn't mean to be rude. I was just surprised is all."

Miles shoved his hands in his pockets and took a step back.

"Hey, it's okay." Waylon found it easy to recover when he sensed Miles hurting. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Not...afraid?"

Waylon wiped away the last of his tears and shook his head. "No, not at all. I know you don't mean me harm."

Miles was quiet for a long while before speaking again.

"...Monster..."

It took Waylon a moment to realize what Miles meant. When he figured it out, he nearly wept again.

"No! That's not true! You're not a monster! Why would you say that?"

"...Walrider..."

"Oh..." Waylon's brow furrowed. There was no denying the murderous nature of the so-called perfect being. Its handiwork still haunted his dreams, and he was grateful he forgot most of his time in the engine, but for Miles the Walrider was his new reality. Even so, Waylon spoke in his defense.

"I don't think you're a monster. Not at all." he said, a bit calmer. "You're still human enough to reason and sympathize, so the Walrider must still be separate from you. If nothing else, the human part of you must be stronger than it if you saved me. You're its host, but you're not the same as it.”

"Thank you." It was the most human Miles sounded since his arrival.

Waylon smiled. Through their strained communication, he found relief. No longer was he the sole survivor. He didn’t need to struggle to explain how much it hurt, how the carnage never left. He hoped Miles felt the same comfort.

He too managed a smile before pointing to the jeep.

"Oh, right!" Waylon wished Miles had forgotten the reason for the visit. He didn't look forward to being alone again, but the human decency in him compelled him to return what never belonged to him in the first place. He went inside for a moment and returned with the keys, but even then he hesitated.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay for a bit? I could make you a lunch."

Miles appeared regretful and shook his head. "Can't...stay..."

Waylon was about to ask why when he remembered Murkoff. They drove him and his family out of Colorado just for uploading a video. He could only imagine how desperate they must be to reclaim their beloved experiment.

"I think I understand." Waylon reluctantly handed Miles the keys. "But will you be okay out there?"

Miles shrugged, as if he ran away from multi-million dollar corporations on the daily. He twirled the keys on his surviving index finger and turned on his heel to reclaim his jeep, but before he climbed in, he looked back at Waylon.

He cracked a grin and fired a finger gun with the missing index finger.

Waylon couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Parks settle down for a family dinner, an old friend pays them a surprise visit.

Ding-dong!

Waylon’s heart skipped a beat.

He had only just sat down to enjoy a dinner with his wife and sons-Daniel and T.J. when the doorbell broke his peace of mind.

He imagined opening the door to one of Murkoff’s shining badges. Other times, he prepared himself to face the barrel of a gun. Most of all, he feared opening up to nothing at all. It gave his imagination too much room to wander.

Ding-dong!

“Waylon, honey, are you expecting someone?”

The question was an ordinary one, but Lisa’s tone was so even and deliberate that Waylon knew she used it to mask her worry from the children.

“No, what about you?” Waylon matched her tone as best he could, but his frightened eyes betrayed him.

Ding-dong!

“Who is it?” asked Daniel.

The younger son, T.J. looked up from his crayon drawings in confusion. While he lacked Daniel’s understanding, he knew the doorbell meant trouble without a reason beforehand.

“We’re going to find out.” Lisa stood from the table and locked eyes with Waylon, signaling for him to follow.

Waylon took the hint and trailed after Lisa to the front door. 

As he walked, he thought of the heaviness of the gun at his side. 

It was only through Lisa’s insistence that he kept it on him. She claimed having a means of defense would give Waylon back the control that Murkoff stole from him. Should they come knocking on the door, he would fight back, rather than be the easy victim.

Even so, he feared to answer the door in his own home.

Lucky for him, Lisa was made of tougher stuff. She walked ahead and was the one to check the peephole.

“Oh no…” she murmured, upon looking through.

“What is it?” Waylon’s heart pounded in his ears. “You don’t think it’s Murkoff, do you?”

“It’s not that. It’s-”

The doorbell rang again. This time followed by a pounding on the door. Waylon would have shrieked if not for the voice that followed.

“Waylon, Lisa! Open up! I know you’re home!”

The husband and wife exchanged looks. While Waylon smiled, Lisa threw her hands in the air and stepped to the side so Waylon could open the door.

There stood Miles Upshur, wearing a big smile. One arm carried a wrinkled paper bag, and the other was outstretched for a hug.

“Surprise!”

Waylon chuckled, both at Miles, and his own fear. “Hey, Miles.” He went in for the hug, which Miles gladly returned. 

He once shuddered at Miles’ constant cold, but now he found comfort in it. With it came the one good thing out of that awful place.

“Good to see you too, pal.” Miles patted Waylon’s back before letting go and turning his attentions to Lisa. He flashed what he thought was a winning smile. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! You get a new haircut?”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere in this household, Mr. Upshur.”

“But I mean it! You look good!”

Lisa saw right through it. “I swear I am this close to slamming the door in your face.”

“Aw, but I brought gifts this time!” Miles held up the paper bag.

“Bribery won’t work either.”

“Then what will work on you, woman?” 

“Manners would be a good start.”

Miles groaned and rolled his eyes. “Fiiine. Can I please come in?”

Lisa finally smiled. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She stepped aside so Miles could enter.

Miles stepped inside and found a welcoming committee in the form of Waylon and Lisa’s young sons. They cried out Miles’ name and crashed against him. Daniel with his arms wrapped around Miles’ waist while T.J. latched onto his leg.

“Heya, rugrats.” Miles’ tone suggested disdain, but his smile said otherwise. “Keeping out of trouble?”

“Yes, we are,” Daniel replied. They both looked up at Miles with starry eyes

“Then call it Christmas in July, because Uncle Miles brought the goods!” 

Miles made his way to the table, dragging T.J. along the carpet like a ball and chain. Daniel had the decency to let go and simply walk behind Miles. 

Waylon matched his children’s interest, joining them at the table, but Lisa only kept her eyes on the trail of dirt that Miles brought along.

“Hey, T.J. If you let go, you could get your presents first.” Miles said to the little one who held strong to his leg.

T.J. let go, but he looked up at Miles with a pout and watery eyes.

“Oh, hey kid, don’t look at me like that. Uh...here.” Miles dug through the bag and pulled out a plush rabbit toy for T.J. It looked the part of an ordinary rabbit, but this one sported a pair of antlers, which made T.J. giggle.

“What is it?” T.J. asked, hugging his new toy.

“They call it a jackalope.” 

“That’s a funny name.”

“That’s cuz it’s a funny animal. Hops around the desert, talking like a human. If you’re lucky you might hear them sing a song.”

“What songs do they sing?” 

“I’d guess really bad country.” Miles said, as he pulled out the T.J.’s second gift-a coloring book of desert wildlife.

“Wow!” T.J.’s eyes gleamed as he flipped through the pages. “These are nothing like the animals here!”

“That’s cuz you don’t see them anywhere else. Only when the sun burns like the fires of hell.”

T.J. gasped. “Momma says that’s a bad word.”

“Does she now?” Miles felt Lisa’s stare at the back of his head, but rather than face her, he moved onto the elder son. “Danny-boy, how you doing?” He held out his hand for a fist bump, which Daniel reciprocated.

“Great!” Daniel had a big, toothy smile.

“You’re gonna be even better now.” Miles pulled out a dusty cowboy from the bag and put it on Daniel’s head. Next he brought out a golden badge shaped like a star with “Sheriff Daniel” printed across it.

“Whoa! My own Sheriff badge!” Daniel pinned it over his shirt. He puffed out his chest and put his hands on his hip. “How does it look.”

“Looks mighty fine, Sheriff.” Miles tipped an imaginary hat of his own at the little lawman.

While the boys marveled over their gifts, Lisa noticed a recurring theme on the labels. “Grand Canyon this time?” she asked Miles.

“Yeah, finished a story in the Southwest, and figured I’d do some sightseeing.” Miles dug into the bag and pulled out a turquoise necklace. “Don’t think I forgot you,” he grumbled.

“Well, aren’t you sweet.” Lisa’s voice was dry, but her smile sincere. Though the necklace shared a tag from the same novelty gift store, it was the most thoughtful souvenir he’d gotten her yet. A vast improvement over the googly eyed black bear from the California Redwoods.

“You should try it on,” Waylon urged. “I bet it’d look really nice on you.” 

“Alright, help me out here.” Lisa gathered her hair back so Waylon could clasp the necklace around her neck. “So how does it look?”

The turquoise gem clashed with her olive colored t-shirt, and the silver brought out the stain in her sweatpants, but Waylon couldn’t look away. His gaze was so soft and his smile so sincere that Lisa found herself blushing, years of marriage and two kids later.

“It looks great, honey…”

Miles rolled his eyes at the sweet display. 

“Hey, Waylon! I got you something too!”

“Oh really?” 

“Yeah, check it out.” Miles pulled the final gift from the bag: a handmade dreamcatcher. “Supposed to give ya good dreams or something.”

Waylon read the tag that Miles probably didn’t make past the first two lines. It told of how the net captured bad dreams and the good dreams trickled through the feathers to the sleeper. He wondered if it actually worked or if the placebo effect was to blame. 

Nonetheless, he smiled.

“Thank you, Miles. This is really nice.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Waylon didn’t. Instead, he insisted Miles join them for dinner, which was an easy argument to win when Waylon said they were having homemade corn dogs.

The boys celebrated Miles’ agreement, and tugged on each arm.

“Sit next to me!”

“No, me!”

The argument might have dragged through the night, if Waylon hadn’t intervened.

“Now boys, Miles could sit next to both of you.” He moved Daniel’s placemat one chair over so Miles could sit between them.

The little ones rejoiced at the arrangement, but Miles shot a panicked look at Waylon who only smiled as the boys dragged their beloved uncle to his special spot on the table.

Miles feared he would be forced into extended conversation with the kids, but was saved when Waylon brought out the food.

“Now we’re talking!” Miles snatched two corn dogs from the platter and too much potato salad. He wasted no time in scarfing it down. 

Daniel and T.J. followed suit and feasted like savages, much to Lisa’s dismay.

“Um...Miles?”

“Yeah, Lisa?” he asked, through a full mouth.

“Maybe you should slow down a little.” 

Miles threw his head back and laughed. “Lisa, please! I’m a grown man! I think I could manage eating on my own!”

“I’m not saying that, but-”

Daniel interrupted with a loud burp.

“Nice one!” Miles pat the boy on the back.

T.J. attempted his own burp, but it was little more than a squeak. They shared a laugh regardless.

Lisa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Waylon offered her a sympathetic smile and spoke on her behalf. “Boys, what are the rules about table manners?”

“Never speak with your mouth full.”

“And no burping at the table.”

The boys pouted, but Miles maintained his grin.

“But a good old belch is a compliment to the chef!” He took another bite of his corndog. “Who did cook this anyways? It’s damn good.”

Rather than get an answer, he earned a glare from Lisa. 

“I mean ‘darn good’,” he said. He glanced at Daniel, then T.J. “No cursing, kiddos.”

“But you curse...” Daniel pointed out.

Miles’ first thought was to call Daniel a smartass, but he settled on, “Nice observation: you want a trophy or something?”

“I got a trophy last week!” Daniel looked to his mother. “Mom, can I bring it down to show Uncle Miles?”

“Yes, you may.”

Daniel hurried up the stairs. As he waited for Daniel, Miles returned his attention to the couple sitting across from him.

“Never told me which one of you made the dinner.” 

“I did,” Waylon said.

“Good job, pal.” Miles took another bite, but then recalled his previous visits to Waylon’s home and a particular trend. “Don’t you never cook around here, Lisa?” 

“I…” Lisa’s brow furrowed, and for the first time, Miles saw her lose face.

“It’s okay. I like cooking!” Waylon chirped to save Lisa her embarrassment. “And it’s easy since I’m working from home now. It’s the least I could do since Lisa has a pretty long commute and I get to make money in my pajamas.”

Miles might have believed the explanation, if he hadn’t noticed Lisa giving her husband a gracious smile.

“You can’t cook, can you?” he asked her.

“Miles…” Lisa’s glares were nothing new to Miles, but this was the first time she looked him in the eye.

The direct eye contact was enough to give Miles his answer. He put no effort to fight the laughter that followed.

“Oh, Waylon, from the way you talk about her, I was starting to think she had no faults! I’m glad to know our dear Lisa is human after all!”

“We just can’t have a quiet dinner when you’re here, can we?” Lisa grumbled, rubbing her temple.

“Someone’s gotta mix things up for you folks once in a while!”

Daniel returned to the table, with the trophy in tow. He placed it on the table, right beside Miles’ placemat.

“We won the championship!” Daniel told Miles. “And I scored the winning goal!”

“Did you now?” Miles leaned back in his chair, with a crooked smile. “And what’s the story with that one?”

“It was really cool! We had to go into overtime and it looked like we were going to lose because our best player twisted his ankle earlier, but then my friend, Taylor passed the ball to me!” Daniel jolted into position as if he were on the field again. “The whoooole team was chasing after me, but I ran as fast as I could and made the other team run around in circles!” Daniel ran around the table, dodging imaginary players in his laps around the table, then began to slow. “and then when I was getting tired of running around, I kicked the ball, and I made the goal!” Daniel kicked as high as he could into the air, and leapt in the air at his victory.

Miles chuckled. “Sounds pretty cool. Does that mean you’re the new ‘star player’?” he asked.

“Gee, I don’t know!” Daniel grinned, scratching the back of his head. “Mom and Dad tell me not to be a sore winner, but it sure would be cool if I was!”

“Hell...heck yeah it would!” Miles ruffled Daniel’s hair. “You keep going out there, giving it your all, and you’ll be a little star in no time!”

“Thanks! Maybe someday you’ll be in town for one of my games! They’re really fun and we all have pizza afterwards!”

“Sounds like a good time...” Miles maintained his smile, but his tone softened.

“So what have you been up to?” Lisa asked, when Daniel returned to his dinner. “Arizona is quite a ways away.”

“Just chasing another lead that went nowhere. Not really good dinner talk, but it’s just some missing people reports that the locals think have to do with some loony cult. I’m sure there’s more to it, but I dug up enough for a paycheck so figured I could afford to take a little break before getting back to work.”

Lisa shook her head. “I can’t believe you could still take on those dangerous stories.”

“Hey, it’s not always so bad.” Miles assured. “Sometimes it’s pretty fun! Like the time I found a chupacabra!”

“A chupa what now?” Lisa asked. Her usual expression morphed into one of bafflement.

“The locals call it ‘the goatsucker’.” From the way Miles spoke and motioned, the Parks prepared themselves for the tallest of tales. Even Lisa found herself eager to hear what Miles came up with this time.  
“It was night. All the parks were closed, and I was hopelessly lost, and everyone knows it’s a death sentence to spend the night alone in the desert, so all I could do was drive. I drove and drove, but I found nothing, but sand and cactus. I was getting tired, my gas was running low, and I was ready to fall asleep right there, and that’s when I saw it.” Miles paused for dramatic effect.

“Saw what?” Daniel asked.

“The chupacabra!” Miles had a wicked grin. “The ugly little fu...thing was right in the middle of the road, feasting on its latest catch! It looked right up at me and I’ll never forget the look in its eyes. Nothing but this shiny black. Like the aliens you see at Roswell, but this fellow was way worse. Claws for fingers, a spiky back, and teeth like needles! It looked at me and I knew if I didn’t think fast, I’d be next.”

“What did you do?”

“The only thing I could do. I slammed on the gas and booked it. For a moment, I thought of running the thing over, but somehow I knew that would only make him angry. I swerved around him and went into the dunes, but little did I know I’d started up the tallest of them all! By the time I realized I was in over my head, I knew there was no turning back. In front of me was the tallest climb and behind me was a blood sucking creature looking for dessert.”

“I thought you said the chupacabra was the goat sucker.” Daniel remarked. “Why would it go after a man?”

“...I don’t know, Daniel, but if you were there you’d be scared too.” Miles said, gravely. “So there I was, inching up the dune, hoping the jeep had it in her to make the climb, and hoping the chupacabra was far behind me. I don’t know how, but I made it up the dune. I was relieved at first and then I saw the way down: a hill so steep, I might as well have been free falling, but I had no choice. I took a deep breath, let go of the brakes, and down I went.”

“Was it like a roller coaster?”

“That’s just what it was like, kiddo.” Miles said. “And it was on that roller coaster that I lost the little monster. It disappeared into the night, and I knew I would live to see another day.”

His words hung in the air, and even the adults found themselves in awe at the alleged encounter.

“Weren’t you scared?” T.J. finally asked.

“Couldn’t afford to be.” Miles said. “Sometimes you gotta forget fear and keep going anyways.”

“Wow!” Daniel gasped. “Would you tell us another story, Uncle Miles?”

“Yeah, another!” T.J. chimed in.

“I’m afraid that’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” Lisa said, though she wasn’t hostile nor dry in her tone. “It’s a school night, and you two have a bedtime to keep.”

“But Uncle Miles just got here!” Daniel protested. “Can’t we stay up just a little longer?”

“Just a little longer!” T.J. echoed.

They both looked up at their mother with pleading eyes, but she would not be moved.

“Not on a school night,” she told them. “Now tell Uncle Miles good night and wash up. Me and Daddy will up soon to tuck you in.”

“Will Uncle Miles be here tomorrow?” Daniel asked his mother.

“I don’t know. Will you?” Lisa looked to Miles.

“Yeah, I guess I’m free for a few.”

The promise was enough for the boys to cooperate. They said good night and hurried upstairs, eager for tomorrow to arrive.

Lisa went off to wash up herself, leaving Waylon to play host.

“C’mon, Miles. The guest room is this way.” He started down the hall, but Miles didn’t move.

“Nah, I’ll just camp out in the jeep.”

Waylon frowned. Though Miles made it a habit to appear on their doorstep without so much as a call, he never spent a night outside of his jeep. 

“Miles, you’re our guest, and we have a guest room. You always stay for a few days anyways.”

“It’s fine.” Miles maintained his casual tone. “I’m sure Lisa doesn’t want me in the house anyways.”

“If she didn’t want you in the house, she really would have slammed the door in your face. Now come on.”

“But-”

“Miles, please…” 

Waylon’s gaze implored for Miles to accept the hospitality, if only to see his friend show a sign of progress. Not just for Miles’ sake, but for his own. To see Miles move forward would assure Waylon that he too was strong enough to leave those nightmares behind.

Though he hesitated, when Miles’ saw the look in his friend's eyes, he sighed in defeat, “Alright, if you insist.”

“I do.”

“Then help me get some things from the jeep. I could use an extra pair of hands.”

“Sure.”

The pair walked outside to where Miles parked, at the curbside. Waylon noticed the jeep cleaner than he’d ever seen it.

“Did you get a car wash coupon?” he asked.

“Nah, just got caught in a rainstorm on the way here.”

Miles popped open the trunk where Waylon had never seen such a mess. Though the back had been fashioned into a plush sleeping area, it was littered with notebooks, files, batteries, and enough take out remains to stink the place up. Amidst the mess, he noticed a dreamcatcher, similar to the one he gave Waylon. It dangled from the roof, out of reach from the mess.

“Hold this.” Miles handed Waylon a battered laptop, before he started to dig through the garbage heap. He handed Waylon whatever got in the way of his search until he found a handful of clean clothes and his toiletries bag. “Okay, you could just dump all that back here.” he said, stepping aside so Waylon could access the trunk.

“Are you sure?” Waylon asked. “Maybe you should organize things a little? Some of this I’m sure you could throw away...”

“Aren’t you a kidder? Just dump it all back there.”

“Okay.” Waylon obeyed, but did laugh lightly.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s nothing. Seeing this jeep just brings back a lot of memories.”

“Like the time you stole it?” Miles slammed the trunk closed. “Because I remember that.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“You wouldn’t understand. Me and this jeep have been through a lot together. Don’t know what I would have done if I lost her.”

“Then why did you send me away with ‘her’?”

“I was just loaning her out. You were supposed to give her back.”

“How was I supposed to find you to give it back?”

“You’re a tech nerd, aren’t ya? You could’ve figured it out.” He wiggled his fingers to mimic typing on the keyboard.

Waylon recalled Miles’ impatience when he failed to do so. He would have never guessed that visit would only be the first, but time and time again, Miles showed up at Waylon’s doorstep. Miles would talk to him, as if they had been friends forever. With each visit that year, he closer resembled a human until the only traces of the Walrider that remained were the black in his eyes and the perpetual cold. He never explained how he was able to track the Parks down through their frequent moves, but Waylon found he didn’t lose much sleep over not knowing.


	3. Chapter 3

It was not from a phone alarm nor the nightmares that Miles awoke, but the sun streaming through the window. He squinted from the brilliant rays and rolled over to bury his face in the pillow. He might have stayed that way for some time, if not for the growl in his stomach that followed not even a minute later.

“Damn…”

Miles stumbled out of bed and dragged himself to the kitchen, where he dug through the pantry and settled on an oatmeal raisin granola bar. While munching on the bar, he snagged the newspaper left behind on the counter and enjoyed his morning reading.

It was halfway through the editorials that the silence began to overwhelm him. 

He looked at the kitchen clock and saw it read noon.

Lisa would be well into her workday, while the boys struggled to stay awake in class, but one other person remained in the house.

He wandered down the first floor hall, and found the second door to the right ajar. He pushed it open and inside was Waylon, glued to the computer screen.

Miles strolled to the desk and looked over Waylon’s shoulder to a screen of numbers and codes that went on far longer than the monitor allowed without a side scroll.

“Whatcha working on, pal?”

Waylon just about leapt from his chair at Miles’ voice. His knee bumped on the keyboard tray to leave a bruise, and he clutched his chest in and attempt to regain his composure. Only when he turned around to face Miles did his breathing steady.

“Miles! Oh my God...you scared me half to death. Please don’t sneak up on me like that…” His voice quivered at every syllable, as if he choked on each word. It was then that Miles noticed the glow of the monitor highlighted the dark circles under Waylon’s eyes.

“Geez, we need to get you out more often,” Miles said.

“I-I’m fine...you just startled me, that’s all.” Waylon returned to his work, though his fingers trembled as he typed. “Do you need something?”

“Yeah, I’m going stir crazy,” Miles replied. “You know any good jogging paths around here?”

“Oh, yes. If you go through the neighborhood exit on the right of the house and then take a left, it’ll take you to a park. It has a nice loop that gives you a view of the town.”

“Sounds great, but think it’d be better if you show me yourself.” Miles tugged on Waylon’s arm to get him out of the chair. “C’mon.”

“I don’t think I should. Just because I work from home doesn’t mean I don’t have a schedule to keep to...”

“Then pencil in a lunch break. You’ll go blind if you stare at that monitor all day.” 

“I think I’ll be fine…” Waylon reasoned, though Miles was already dragging him along.

“You don’t want to be rude to your guest now, do you?”

“Well, no but-”

“Then let’s get going.”

Miles managed to get Waylon outside, and sighed contentedly in the afternoon air. He took a deep breath of fresh air, and turned to Waylon. “See? It’s a beautiful day today. It’d be a sin not to go out and enjoy it.”

While Miles enjoyed the great outdoors, Waylon squinted away from the light, and used his hand as a visor from the sun’s rays, which just made Miles laugh.

“You shut in.” 

He didn’t wait for Waylon to recover before taking the right from the house. Only when Waylon caught up did he speak.

“Still not sleeping well?”

Waylon flinched. “How did you know?”

“The circles under your eyes. I didn’t notice at dinner, but they’re still pretty big.”

Waylon sighed heavily.

“But not as bad as they used to be.” Miles added in. 

“I know. It has gotten easier to get a full night’s sleep, but every once in a while, all I could do is lay in bed and think about the what if’s.” Waylon glanced to Miles once, then back to the path ahead, “What if I kept my mouth shut? What if I hadn’t escaped? What if they find us one day? I can never find any answers I like so I tell myself I won’t go to sleep until I do, even though I know those are all impossible questions.”

“Can’t afford to think like that.”

“I know, but I still do.” 

They took the turn out of the neighborhood, and walked along the sidewalk by the street. Several cars passed by and the two were silent as they waited out the loud engines.

“Don’t you ever think about it?” Waylon finally asked. “What it would be like if that one thing hadn’t happened?” 

Miles shrugged. “Not really. Got too much to worry about in the now to go on thinking of the then.”

“But you still got yourself one of those dream-catchers.”

Miles took his time in replying.

“Unfortunately, I only have as much control over my thoughts when I sleep.”

“What is it that still gets to you?”

“That big fucker.” Miles said, without missing a beat.

Waylon’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Who now?”

“Chris Walker. You didn’t see him much, but you did catch him on camera when Blaire smashed the radio.”

“Oh, yes, I remember.”

“That giant stalked me the whole damn time I was in there.” 

Waylon shuddered at the few memories he had of the fallen soldier. “I don’t know how you managed it.”

“Morning jogs and a truck load of dumb luck is how.” Miles answered, “But it’s not running away from him that sticks with me.”

“Then what is?”

Miles’ gaze drifted to the ground, and he took his sweet time before speaking again. “It’s that after all the times he threw me around, kicked my ass, and made my life a living hell, I felt fucking sorry for him.” He chuckled despite himself. “How fucked up is that?”

“What made you feel sorry for him?”

“That he wasn’t the problem. I think the poor bastard was just trying to fix Murkoff’s mess even if it meant getting his hands dirty.”

“What do you mean by that,” Waylon asked after taking a moment to let Miles’ words simmer.

“He knew the Walrider should have stayed in there. It should have been left to die, and fade away without hurting anyone else.” He glanced slyly at Waylon. “ He probably would have gotten away with it too, if not for us meddling kids.” 

Waylon laughed as well, despite himself. “I’m impressed you got all that just from him chasing you around.”

“What can I say? That place does things to you, stay there long enough and the madness actually starts making sense. You know what I mean?”

“I’m not sure I do…”

“How about this? Was there one that stuck out with you? One that you felt you understood as well as yourself, even though you hated it?”

“It...it…” Waylon took a deep breath. “It was Gluskin."

“The Groom, right?”

Waylon nodded. “By the time it was all over, I felt I understood him better than any therapist ever did.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at Miles. “ He wanted love, but his mind was too broken to understand what that meant. He couldn’t handle being wrong, so he destroyed anyone who dared to challenge his view. That place only warped him beyond saving…” Though it was the hottest part of the day, Waylon shivered.

“You ever feel sorry for the poor devil?” Miles asked, a bit quieter than usual.

Waylon looked down. “I only wish. I tried to feel sorry for him, for all of them. I really did, but everybody I saw, every man murdered before me,” he sighed heavily before continuing, “I was just happy it wasn’t me. I know it’s awful, but all I could think about was getting home to Lisa and the boys-everyone else be damned.” He managed to look back up at Miles. “Is that cruel of me?”

“I don’t think so,” Miles gave Waylon a sideways glance. “You had something to fight for and you didn’t need to waste your time with the details. Clearly worked if it got you out of there, let you get the truth out.”

“Yeah. Not to mention Lisa would have never forgiven me if I let that place beat me.” Waylon said, managing a smile.

“How is she with all this anyways?” Miles asked, waving his hand slightly. “Did she ever watch the video?”

Waylon shook his head. “She wanted to, but I wouldn’t let her. Even when it was uploaded for the world to see, I begged for her to never watch it. I think I scared her a bit with how insistent I was that she not watch it, but I’m glad she listened. It’s bad enough I put her and the boys in danger for my telling, so the least I could do is make sure they live as close to normal of a life as possible. Even if we have to move around a lot, I want to ensure they never have to see the things that I did.”

“I don’t blame you. They’re a good lot, and I’m glad you all could smile and laugh together like you’re living some Hallmark life.”

“Yeah, with them it’s easy. I could forget what happened, and be a husband and father. It’s when I’m alone or out with strangers that my mind starts to wander.”

“Is that why you work from home?”

“I’m afraid so,” Waylon confessed. “The solitude is difficult, but it’s better than the paranoia I feel around strangers now. At least I know my own home, and can trust Lisa will come through those doors and we can enjoy a dinner together as a family. Sometimes I wish those dinners would last forever. I hate having to go to bed.”

“The nightmares, right?”

“At first it was, but now it’s the dark.”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “The dark?”

“I know, I know, it’s childish, but it’s like…” Waylon trailed off as he thought of a few nights back. “It’s like I wake up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. I know it’s my home, but when I go to turn on the light, I expect to be back in that awful place. Sometimes I leave the lights off just so I don’t have to risk going back there. I’m always safe of course, but no matter how many mornings I wake up in my own bed, I still can never bring myself to turn on the lights.”

“Heavy,” was all Miles had to say.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are. Why do you think I live out of my jeep?”

“Is that why?”

“Yeah. It’s too small and cramped to fit an asylum.”

“But doesn’t it get lonely?”

Miles shrugged. “It suits me. I was always something of a lone wolf anyways.”

Waylon looked upon his friend with concerned eyes. His thoughts went to the night before when Miles sat with them as part of the family, as if he belonged at that table from the start. He hadn’t a doubt Miles felt the same, but when he opened his mouth to argue the claim, they came to a fellow pedestrian with a dog whose barks drowned out the conversation.

Not only did the dog bark, but it pulled on its leash and snarled at Miles. If not for the leash, it might have robbed Miles of another finger or two.

“I’m so sorry,” its owner said, as they pulled on the leash. “She’s usually never like this.”

“No worries.” Miles held up his hand, as the owner managed to drag their dog away.

“That was weird,” Waylon commented. Even as the owner disappeared at the end of the path, he still heard the barking.

“It’s to be expected. Animals don’t take too kindly to the Walrider.”

“I hope you didn’t find that out the hard way…”

“Let’s just say I’m glad that rabid dog wasn’t Cujo size!”

Miles launched into another tale from his travels, but he never returned to the topic of his solitude. Even when Waylon tried to bring the conversation back to their experiences, Miles steered right back into jokes and small talk.

By the time, they made it to the top of the hill, Waylon gave up and enjoyed the view. He didn’t realize how the afternoon sun beat on him until they stopped. Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead, and the sun shone so bright that he had to squint to see the view of the little town, but he smiled through it.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Waylon remarked after a time.

“I guess...Wanna start heading back now?”

“In a minute.” Waylon took a seat on a bench. “I just want to sit for a bit…”

“Don’t tell me that little stroll wore you out. I didn’t even make you jog.”

“No, I just want to enjoy the view before we head back.”

“You sound like a tired, old man,” Miles said, though he joined Waylon on the bench. “What’s next? Week old bread to feed the birds?”

“You really think food lasts that long in a house with two growing boys?”

“Heh, guess not.”

They sat in silence for a good while. Only the footsteps of the occasional walker broke through, until Miles spoke up.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?

“Nothing much. Since it’s Friday, the boys get to stay up late. Sometimes we watch a movie together. Why do you ask?”

“Don’t know about you, but I’m thinking pizza. We could surprise Lisa and the kids when they get home: my treat.”

Waylon smiled sweetly. “That sounds really nice.”

“Great,” Miles shot up from the bench and grinned at Waylon. “Let’s get back to the house. It’s getting a bit hot out here for my taste.”

“Alright.” Waylon stood up. “I have to get back to work anyways.”

“Then we better hurry.” Miles’ grin widened. “Race you down the hill. Loser calls the pizza place.” 

He didn’t wait for Waylon’s response to book it down the hill. 

Waylon considered running after, but instead pulled out his cellphone to search for the nearest Pizza Hut.


	4. Chapter 4

When Monday rolled around, the Parks dragged their feet to the kitchen. They murmured their good mornings between their yawning fits, and gathered around the table for Waylon’s famous Monday Pancakes.

Waylon burnt the edges on several, but none complained.

“Do we have to go to school?” Daniel asked. “Uncle Miles says he used to play hookey all the time when he was my age and nothing happened.”

“I don’t think Uncle Miles is the best example to follow, sweetie,” Lisa chided gently. “I know we all had a fun weekend, but you must go to school and fill that big brain with knowledge.”

“But I want to go back to the zoo…” T.J. murmured, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh, honey...I’m sure Miles would love to take you again next time he comes to town.”

Waylon perked. “Next time? He’s still here...”

“Huh?” Lisa looked up, confused. “He is? I thought he left.”

“What?”

“When I got the paper, his jeep wasn’t outside. I thought he had to run off.”

“No, he never told me that.” 

Without waiting for a response, Waylon got up from the table and hurried to the front yard. Sure enough, the curb was empty where the jeep should have been. 

As Waylon stared, he heard Lisa’s footsteps follow behind him.

“Did he not tell you?” she asked.

Waylon shook his head.

“Well that doesn’t make sense,” she said. “He’s never left without saying goodbye to you at least.”

“I know…”

Lisa’s hand on his shoulder tore Waylon’s eyes from the empty space.

“Then it must be a mistake,” she told him. “I just assumed he left because he likes to sleep in, but if he didn’t say goodbye to you, he probably just went to the convenience store to pick something up.”

“You’re right.” Waylon turned back to rejoin his family. “It’s probably nothing...”

He returned to his breakfast, but couldn’t stomach the rest of his plate.

Lisa watched as he only picked at his food, but the boys’ constant pleas to be spared from school kept her from inquiring further. It was only when the clock told her it was time to go that the little ones let up. She sent her sons upstairs to finish getting ready, before giving her husband a kiss goodbye that lasted just a little longer than usual.

Her affections calmed him long enough to last the drive to drop his sons off, but upon returning home, his thoughts returned to the still empty curb. He started the day’s load of work to cover up the worry but a half hour in, his eyes ached from the monitor’s glow.

He pushed back on the rolling chair, and went downstairs for a glass of water. He tried to think of what he would make for dinner when his family returned, but the silence distracted him. He started to the living room for the radio, when there was a pounding at the door.

This time, Waylon didn’t budge at the sound. He didn’t even check through the peephole, before he opened the door. The graininess in the air was all too familiar to him now.

“Hey, pal. Can I come in for a bit?” 

Miles’ words were clear enough to understand, but his voice sounded as if he spoke to Waylon over the phone, rather than at his doorstep, though he leaned right against the frame. He hunched slightly, holding onto his stomach.

“Yes, of course you can.” Waylon moved to let Miles inside, when he noticed a limp. He hurried to steady Miles and help him lean against the kitchen counter. 

“Heh, sorry…”

“What are you apologizing for?! You’re hurt! We have to get you to a hospital!”

“Don’t think that’ll help much,” Miles said, his voice winded and far off.

“Oh, don’t be like that. It’s just a five minute drive so come on!”

Rather than allow Waylon to drag him to the car, Miles held up a hand. It was stained not with blood, but an inky black fluid.

“What on earth…?” Waylon stared, jaw agape.

“There’s not much they could do for me there.” Miles’ hand fell back at his side.

“Yes, but...you’re still bleeding. We have to do something!”

Miles shook his head. “Don’t even bother.”

“Miles, don’t talk like that! I know the Walrider has some weird side effects, but-”

“I’ll be fine.” Miles grunted, through clenched teeth. He began to rely more heavily on the counter to stay standing.

“It can’t hurt to try. Wounds are still wounds, so let’s at least check the first aid kit.” He reached out to usher Miles along, but the latter jolted away.

“Just stay away from me!” he shouted, louder than he meant to.

The static in the air droned on and on, and brought with it that black storm Waylon hadn’t seen since their first meeting. It was not with fear that Waylon gazed upon his friend, but heartbreak.

“I’m sorry…” Miles’ head hung low. “I’ll be fine, really. I...just stay away from me until I get it back under control. I don’t want to hurt you…” He sunk down so he sat on the floor, huddled against the counter. He cursed under his breath, as he held tighter to his wounds.

Though he left the space between them, Waylon knelt down to Miles’ level. “What happened?”

“It was last night...I-I had to get something from the jeep and I saw a black car I hadn’t seen here before. I tried to tell myself it was nothing, but-” Miles grit his teeth and muttered a curse before he could continue. “I saw the light on inside and two weirdos muttering to each other. They stopped when they saw me, stared at me like I was some goddamn freak and drove away.” Miles paused to manage a stifled breath. “I had to follow them...just to make sure...and when I did…” 

“The Walrider came out.” Waylon said when Miles couldn’t.

He nodded. “I didn’t it want it to. At least not at that moment. I was going to come back and say goodbye before luring them away, maybe to some other city, but then...I found out they were Murkoff, they pulled their guns on me. The Walrider freaked out. It knew I was in danger, and I...I lost control, dammit. It just tore them to fucking pieces.”

Waylon struggled a moment to fill in the blanks of Miles’ story, only to realize how little they mattered. “It’s okay.” He spoke clearly and slowly. “You may have lost control, but only the bad guys got hurt. You’re here and you’re safe now.”

“It’s never safe.” Miles coughed into his hands, hacking up more of that black fluid. “This nightmare never fucking ends. I keep thinking there’s no way they’ll find us this time, but they always do. Every goddamn time...it just never ends…”

“Miles, I know it may seem that way, but we always manage one way or another. We’ll figure something out.”

Through his hacking and heaving, Miles smirked. “Easy for you to say. You have your family, your humanity, your mind is close enough to right. All I have is…” Miles looked at his inky hands. “This….thing...it just tears everything apart, and I’m stuck with it.”

“At least it protected you from the bullets,” Waylon reminded him. “And now that you’re safe, I’m confident it won’t come out and hurt anyone. Not right now, not when I’m here.”

Miles attempted a chuckle. “You’re right about that much. This thing isn’t going to let me die…”

The static in Miles’ eyes flickered at that moment, and Waylon shivered.

“You’re hiding something,” he uttered, without thinking.

Miles looked Waylon straight in the eye. “You didn’t see the doctor, did you?”

“Trager? No, only his corpse…”

Miles shook his head. “Not that doctor. I’m talking about Wernicke. The certified one, the one who started all this bullshit. You wouldn’t understand unless you saw him.”

“Wernicke died in 2009...”

“I know. I found the old man’s death certificate and everything, but beneath the mountain, he was still alive. Billy...The Walrider, they wouldn’t let him die. They used their science, their witchcraft, whatever the hell it is to keep the old man alive.” Miles looked up at Waylon with the frightened eyes of a child. “It wouldn’t let him die. It won’t let me die.”

Waylon said nothing for a long while, only watched Miles’ expressions as he spoke. First neutral, then frustrated, and finally to sheer terror. It was through Miles’ terror that Waylon understood.

“Oh my God…” 

“You get it now,” Miles said. “It can keep a host for however long it wants.”

“Miles, I…”

“What?” he snapped. “You’re gonna say everything’ll be okay? That we’ll figure something out?”

“No,” Waylon said. “I don’t think I believe in that anymore.”

“Wow, real encouraging there, pal.” Miles rolled his eyes.

Waylon responded by reaching into the storm to pull Miles into a hug. He held him as he had when Daniel came crying to him with a skinned knee.

“I don’t know if things will be okay,” he told Miles. “We’ll probably still be having nightmares years from now, and Murkoff will still be on our trail. I used to hate that.” He tightened his grip on Miles. “I wanted nothing more than to wipe it all out of my memory and go back to the moment before I took the job offer, and make a different choice. I would have never seen their corruption. I would have never sent that email, and you would have never stepped foot in that awful place.” He swallowed tears before continuing. “But I can’t go back and save you from this. I will carry those regrets with me to my grave, but even so, I’m still here. You’re still here, and maybe that’s what it’s about. Not trying to fix ourselves, but simply being, moving forward even when we feel like breaking so we could find those little moments of happiness in between the nightmares. Maybe those moments are why we’re still here.”

“You’re so damn corny…” Miles muttered, though he rest his head on Waylon’s shoulder.

“I could live with that.”

As Waylon held Miles, the air around them began to clear. The wounds began to close and Miles’ breathing steadied. All the while, Waylon’s shoulder soaked with tears.

“I don’t want to go…” Miles finally admitted, when he could speak as a human again.

“I know you don’t.”

“I like it here. I really do. With you, the boys, hell even Lisa, I feel like I’m part of a goddamn family…”

“That’s because you are.” Waylon tightened his hold. “You’re Uncle Miles, remember?”

“Heh, that’s right...I really like how that sounds…”

“So do I.”

Waylon could hear the smile in his voice, and at last, Miles returned the hug. “Tell the boys I’m really sorry I left without saying goodbye. I’ll make sure to bring them the best gifts ever next time.”

“I know you will.”

“And thank Lisa for letting me in the house.”

“Of course.”

“And...I’m sorry you’ll all probably have to move again…” Miles’ voice sank as he spoke.

“It’s alright. This isn’t your fault. I knew what would happen the moment I uploaded that video. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Okay…” 

Reluctantly, Miles let go. 

“Sorry to cry all over you, pal…” Miles said, with a nervous smile.

“It’s alright.” Waylon put a hand on Miles’ shoulder before standing. He went to the sink and filled the biggest glass he could find full of water. “Here,” he handed the glass to him. “You can’t go back on the road dehydrated, and drink it slow. It’ll help calm you down.”

“Thanks.” Miles followed Waylon’s advice and sighed contentedly afterward.

“There you go.” When Miles finished his glass of water, Waylon held out a hand to help him off the kitchen floor. “Feeling better?”

“Good enough, I guess.” Miles said, through a stretch.

“That’s good.”

“I’ll start getting my things together…”

Miles dragged his feet through the house, while Waylon stayed in the kitchen. He searched through the refrigerator and cabinets for the best food he could find. He put the leftovers and snacks into one of the brown paper bags he used for his boys’ lunches. 

Right when he folded the paper bag closed, Miles returned to the kitchen. 

“Here,” Waylon handed the sack to Miles. “It’s not much, but remember to eat some real food out there. You can’t live off of McDonald’s breakfast menu forever.”

“Heh, says you, but thanks. I always miss the homemade food here.”

“And try not to stay away too long next time.”

“I’ll try. I’m gonna see if I can lead Murkoff on a different trail. Who knows? Maybe you won’t have to move after all.” Miles offered a smile, which Waylon returned.

“Either way, I know you’ll find us again.”

“You can count on that.” Miles started to the front door. “C’mon, mind walking me out?”

“Not at all.”

They strolled towards the jeep, and Waylon stood with Miles as he loaded his home back up. They hugged and said their goodbyes, but before Miles stepped foot in the jeep, Waylon spoke out.

“Hey, Miles.”

“Yeah?”

“Before you go, there’s something I always wanted to ask you.”

“Shoot.”

“How do you always find us?”

Miles tilted his head, puzzled. “I never told you?”

“No.”

Miles grinned from ear to ear. “Walrider bullshit! Obviously!”

At first Waylon could only stare at Miles. He waited for the grin to fade for him to offer the true explanation, but Miles maintained his smile, as if he’d never known a bad day in his life.

Waylon could only laugh.


End file.
